


A Little Danger

by sherlollymouse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Sherlolly - Freeform, sherlolly BDSM smut, sherlolly smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2105034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlollymouse/pseuds/sherlollymouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The very first draft of this was inspired by "Heartbreaker" by Marina and the Diamonds. I've changed it a lot (obviously, it started out as a fluff one shot) but, I still kind of feel a bit inspired by it.</p><p>Sherlock Holmes pushes Molly Hooper a bit too far one night and, now, their relationship will never be the same. They have the power to choose most of the changes, but what can't they change?<br/>Is this love? Is this lust? Does it matter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stay.

    Molly wasn’t surprised when Sherlock requested her assistance again; of course, she hadn’t expected it so soon. He had seemed pretty adamant they shouldn’t work together again, but that was before her breakup with Tom. She was a little relieved the day had gone well, but it was getting late and she was beginning to lose her patience with the detective and his damnable wall.  
“Sherlock,” She yawned from ‘John’s’ chair as she stretched. “It’s almost 3 am… can any of this wait a few hours?” The man grumbled in response.  
“I don’t sleep when I’m working.”  
“Well some of us need to.” She insisted, pulling at the cuff of her colorful jumper.  
“You’ll not die without sleep, Molly.” He was still enthralled in his project, bouncing from sofa to desk. “The longest record, last I checked, was 264.4 hours. You’ll be fine.”  
“Sherlock,” A profound sigh was released from her lips as she rose. “I need to go home and go to bed.” As she moved, his eyes fluttered, and looked a touch panicky, if she said so herself.  
“We’re working. You’re a pathologist. None of your patients are alive anyway, what harm could you possibly do?” He was still insistent but trying to sound the opposite.  
“I’m going.” Molly flung her bag over her shoulder and made for the door. The flat shook as he shot off of the sofa and thudded to the floor, landing much like a cat.  
“You can’t!” he insisted, placing himself between her and the exits. “I need your help.”  
“Well, I’m no use exhausted, am I?” As Molly attempted to push past him, he grabbed her arm.  
“Don’t go, please?” Sherlock pleaded, and she narrowed her eyes a bit.  
“Move, Sherlock.” Her voice was stern and demanding.  
“I want you to stay; why don’t you just sleep here?”  
“Because, I don’t want to.” She didn’t want to tell him about her sleep problems; that she had problems with insomnia and hypersomnia since he went away.  She’d had these symptoms since puberty, and they were exacerbated by stress. Sleeping in her own bed helped.  
Maybe his own fatigue had overcome him, but the push he used to force her back wasn’t convincing and was totally out of character.  
“Stay.” He was good at sounding authoritative and could have convinced nearly anyone else he was serious.  
“That’s not how you get me to stay, Sherlock.” Molly’s bag hit the floor though, and he gave her a small smile as he turned back to the wall.  
Oh, this was not acceptable.  
“This isn’t how you’re going to treat me.” She demanded to his back.  
“No? Well, it seems to have worked.” His focus wasn’t wavering.  
“Excuse me.” She grabbed his shoulder and whipped him around. “I demand an apology.” For a moment, Sherlock stared at her, confused, and she merely raised an eyebrow. “You placed your hands on me twice and I told you not to. Apologize to me.” He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. It took him three tries to finally form the words.  
“I’m sorry, Molly.” After speaking, his eyes drifted back to the floor.  
“Apology accepted, but never do that again.” Nostrils flaring from a deep inhale, he seemed to hold it before looking back up at her as she retrieved her bag.  
“How can I get you to stay?” he asked, carefully.  
“I don’t want to stay, Sherlock. I’m getting tired.” When he touched her wrist as she walked toward the door, she’d had enough. The movements were fast, but gentle, and didn’t hurt at all. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he couldn’t quite recall for a moment how he ended up with his belly against the door and his hands held together behind his back.  
“What’s with all this touching tonight, Sherlock?” Molly’s soft voice began, “You rarely touch anyone, but tonight, you’re trying to force me to stay when I want to go.”  
“Well, I don’t want you to leave.” For a moment, they just stood there, both thinking. When he began to fidget, Molly applied more physical pressure.  
“No, not until you prove that you know how to behave.” He felt her elbow in the small of his back and stopped struggling.  
“Behave.” He scoffed. “Just how am I supposed to do that? You can’t hold me like this all night, you said yourself that you’re getting tired.” She wasn’t quite sure what possessed her to do it, but she slid her scarf off of the hook beside them.  
“I’ll show you.” Molly said, as she began tying his hands up. He  didn’t fight it, just quietly allowed her to bind his hands together behind his back. Slowly, she turned him around to examine him. There was a bit of fear of his eyes, but no apprehension. Fighting her off would still be easy and he’d need no help to undo the scarf.  
“Kiss me,” she commanded, and he obliged. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers and parted them at her bidding. It was a passionate kiss, she felt a bit weak in the knees, and before she knew it, she was stroking him through his trousers. He responded with a grateful moan and a buckle of his own knees, but she didn’t linger. Instead, she took his scarf that had been hung with hers and watched his face as she placed it around his neck to make a short leash.  
Sherlock didn’t even flinch.  
Still, when she pulled him off the door, she continued to gauge his reaction. He was obviously, willingly compliant, and didn’t make a peep as she turned around and led him down the hall to his bedroom.  
With minimal force, Molly had him centered on his bed, and had undone the scarves and removed his shirt before laying him back against the pillows. There were all sorts of odd things in the Baker Street flat, but among them, Molly was happy to find an old sheet that was part of previous case folded nicely and set beside his wardrobe. Obviously, Mrs. Hudson had unintentionally laundered it. Knowing it wasn’t Sherlock’s and it was clean, she tore into it to make new, soft, silken strips that she used to secure him to the bed post.  
Eyes focused on retrieving his scarf from the dresser, she still kept her antenna up, listening and waiting for him to say or do something. It was unlikely he could undo his new restraints without any help. When she turned back to him, his scarf was pulled taught between her hands and she was glad he couldn’t see the smile on her face when he lifted up his own head, closed his eyes and pressed his face to the fabric.  
“Sherlock?” She ran her hands up his torso.  
“Yes, Molly?”  
“You just say the word and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing.”  
“Molly?”  
“Yes, Sherlock?”  
“Hurt me… please.” It was almost a plea. For a moment, she thought and licked her lips, thinking of what she should say.  
Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, “I want you to tell me exactly how you want it to hurt.”


	2. Hurt Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He asked for it.....

“I’ve been such a bad person, Molly.” He seemed to choke on his own words beneath the blindfold. “I just.. I don’t feel a thing… I need to feel…Molly, please, however you wish, just… hurt me.” Standing on his left side, closest to the door,she leaned over him to run her nails down his chest.   
“What do you want the safe word to be.”  
“I don’t need one—.”   
“You’ll say ‘red’.” She interrupted his objections. “Understand.”  
“Yes, Molly.” Sherlock exhaled as he adjusted himself on the bed.   
“Do you have any toys?”   
“Theres a box under my bed… your side.” Silently, she knelt and retrieved the hidden foot locker. It was black with golden colored fixtures.  
“It’s not locked.” He said, quietly, clearing his throat. “You-uh-showed up a bit earlier than I expected.” Molly suppressed a giggle as she triggered the releases and opened it.   
There was a riding crop and a paddle, a male vibrator, a few ropes of different length an electric wand. Of course, there were care items for these devices and a small first aid kit.   
The electric wand and male vibrator had been cleaned, but obviously thrown in halfhazardly. Well, that satisfied her curiosity about what he did when he was alone. Molly observed these for a bit, but opted for a different approach.   
“I’m going to leave you for a moment, Sherlock. I won’t be long.” He whimpered a bit, but nodded, allowing her to creep down to Mrs. Hudson flat; Sherlock didn’t have everything she needed and,frankly,stealing made her feel naughty.   
Seeing his eager response to the creak of the door only enhanced her own excitement. The scent of his anticipation was a bit overwhelming and triggered a primal urge to churn in her belly. She desperately wanted to eat him alive. Without saying a word, Molly clamped a clothespin to his side.  
She was relieved he only took a sharp inhale of breath.  
“You like that?” As she spoke, she took care to keep her tone even.  
“Yes, Molly.”   
“Good.” Her hand was already poised to clamp his nipples next. They were rubbed and licked to her satisfaction before she applied them to the base of his hard,pink dunes. Next, underneath his arms and a few more on his side… then it was time for the trousers to go.   
She undid them and pulled the trousers off at the ankles. Basket of clips set aside, she picked up the crop from the trunk and rubbed him through his silken boxer briefs. Sherlocks prick stood at attention as he began to writhe at the contact. Obviously, he recognized the feel of the leather thong, perhaps it’d been placed there before, or he was just hopeful. Gently, she gave his erection a tap. “You know, Sherlock.” Molly began as she glided the tip down the side of his leg. “they say you teach people how to treat you. Do you think thats true?” The man definitely had a grip on control. His breaths where still deliberate. She watched his rib cage shake beneath his glistening chest.   
“Sometimes… I suppose.” The man had not let go yet. Molly knew she’d have to fix that, she paused her movements to change them, marking places for the clothes pins with her crop.  
Thwack.  
Thwack.  
Thwack.  
And, to her delight, he rose with every smack and flinched at every clasp. His moans and muffled shouts where delicious; they sounded like him loosing his grip on himself and giving more to her to relish.   
Despite the mild feel of the room, Sherlocks body temperature had risen considerably. Perhaps if he wasn’t so stubborn,… but the stress induce sweat that glazed his body and shone in the lamp light was giving her fits and she had to had to have a taste.  
Careful not to disturb the pins, she leaned over him and ran her tongue along the outlines of his muscles. Of course, he couldn’t forget the aim of the game. She’d never allow that, so when she was done, she dug her nails in deep and ran them down his torso. This time, he cried out her name. He was hanging by a thread now.  
“Sherlock,” She asked, nonchalantly, placing a few clips to the areas she’d moistened.   
“Yes, Molly?”  
“Does this hurt?” She gave one a flick.   
“Its… quite uncomfortable,Molly.”  
“Hmm… but not painful?” For a moment, he hesitated.  
“No, Molly.”   
“I see.” She stepped back to admire her work for a second, before situation her self at the best angle to observe the porcelain skin of his loins. “Well,” Molly pulled back the crop with determination as she aimed for the first pins on his thigh, punctuating her words as the crop made contact. “Perhaps. I.Will.Have.To.Get. Creative.” Molly wished he could see her smile, but was adamant on depriving him the privilege of watching her work. She had a lot of pins to go. Flicking her eyes up and down his exposed body, she saw his bound hands where now open palmed. Perhaps this was a sign. Molly deeply hoped it was because his boxer briefs where marked with pre-cum.


	3. Bedposts and Curls

She really hoped he didn’t hear her breath hitch or her slid off her trousers, but seeing him letting go and aching for her simply set her on fire and she couldn’t take the restriction any more.   
Laying the crop across his body, she pulled off her brightly colored jumper and disposed of her shirt as well, leaving her in a white vest top and her undergarments.   
Much better.  
Thrack. Snap.   
She made waste of another clothes pin. It’d been a long time since she had this much fun.   
Thrack. Snap.  
Thrack. Snap.  
Thrack. Snap.  
Thrack. Snap.  
Fast as she could, she sent more flying. As his cries became louder, the realization of his need for a muzzle struck her and, with a smile, she worked her pink panties off.   
Molly didn’t need to even look at them to know they were moist with her own arousal. That scent is strong and had been mingling with his own for some time.   
Turning them inside out, Molly shoved them into his mouth.  
“Do you taste that?” The muffled noise he responded with wasn’t necessary, she’d made sure to press the wet material directly to his tongue. “Seeing you like this….”  
Thrack. Snap.  
“Does things to me, Sherlock.”  
Thrack. Snap.  
“Dirty, dirty things…”  
Thrack. Snap.  
“It makes me want to do things, Sherlock.”  
Thrack. Snap.  
“Bad, bad things.”  
Thrack. Snap.  
Thrack. Snap.  
“Do you want me to do them to you?” He moaned and nodded furiously, pulling on his binds and making the bed creak, as if in agreement with him.   
Thrack. Snap.  
“Oh, now, sssshhhh… how do you expect to get anything if you don’t behave?”  
Thrack. Snap. Thrack. Snap.   
Sherlock had made it there, Molly could see it. The way he whined like a puppy and his head flopped, the reddening of his skin as he tried to suppress his desire to call out with each flick of the crop, the way his hands, still open palmed, would slid up and down the bed post. He wasn’t fighting anymore, he had surrendered.   
Thrack. Snap. Thrack. Snap.  
The pins secured to the base of his nipples where the only ones left. Teasingly, she played with them. Giving them flicks and wiggling them, enjoying her toy’s attempt to behave; holding his breath and tossing his head about. He was trying so hard to be quite… so hard.   
Sherlock held himself still as she ran leather tongue of the crop down his chest and down to his pants.  
“Whats going on down here, boy?” A hissing inhale was her only response. “Have I — been neglectful?” She asked, coyly, sliding the leather beneath the waistband . His hips twitched at the contact as he gasped through the erotic gag. “No,” Molly stopped moving the instrument. “you behave. We don’t want you cumming without me, do we?” He shook his head furiously before he hung it, making strained and desperate noises muffled only by her moistened panties, a gift. “Good boy.” Molly smiled as she began to move it up and down against him, stroking his prick gently. When she saw him move to clench his fist again, she opted to end the teasing and swiftly drew it out and whipped off the final clips in one swift movement.   
“You’re behaving so well.” She placed her hand by his hair and began to play with his curls, now dampened by the sweat and strain of the scene. “Very good.” Lovingly, she placed a kiss on his forehead. “I think you deserve a little something, don’t you?” The confused whimper he released was all she needed. The pathologist wasted no time climbing onto the bed and tossing away his gag. “You were done with the taste test, right? I assumed you were ready for the rest of it.”  
“Yes,…Molly.” He forced out through haggard breaths, that she allowed him to catch for positioning herself over his face. When Molly felt him part her lips, she realized how much she had wanted him.   
She was dripping wet and poised for him to give her release. The moment he entered her with his tongue, she had to grab the bed post to hold herself steady.  
“Oh, god, Sherlock.” Molly cried, adjusting her balance enough to place one hand in his hair. Her paramours tongue was an avid explorer, gliding through her entire slit, stopping only to concentrate its affections on her clit. As he moved his tongue in fierce but loving circles, she felt her hand latch into his curls. “Oh, god, don’t stop.” Molly released the bed post and placed her face against it, praying her thighs were strong enough to hold her steady, she slid the now free hand into her burning center from behind. “Sherlock, I want you to cum with me.You’re going to cum with me.” Molly managed to order though her mental haze. “Oh, Sherlock. Oh. God. Please.” Unconsciously, she sunk her teeth into the bedpost as she climaxed. She’d pick the wood out of her teeth in a moment.


	4. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two each have their own worries and Mycroft makes a suggestion as to the source of Sherlocks.

Immediately, she lifted herself off of him, but it was only to collapse at his side. It didn’t take long for her to gather up the energy to straddle his chest and undo his binds.  
“You were a very good boy.” Molly comforted him as she removed the scarf from his eyes.  
“Thank you, Molly.” Carefully, he ran his hands up her side, fondling the cotton vest top she still wore.  
“You may remove it, if you like.” With a smile he complied, graciously removing her bra as well and pulling her into a deep hug.  
“Thank you, Molly.” He said again, but this time it was different. There was a great relief in his voice and she’d never felt him be so physically tender. The way he pressed his lips to the crook of her neck with such care… it was as if he thought pressing his lips too hard against her skin might some how damage her.  
Sherlock clung to her like mad, though. Apparently, her torso wasn’t so easily damaged.  
“Sherlock,” she asked quietly, “are you alright?” He released a sniffled and began to laugh.  
“I’ve never been better, Molly.” He smashed his lips against her cheek. “Never better.”  
“Can we lay down, then? I am still tired.”  
“Of course.” Gently, he laid them back against the pillows and nuzzled himself in her hair. “I—uh— already called you off of work, anyway.”  
“Thank you.” Molly whispered as Sherlock leaned up and turned off the light. “Although, we’ll have to talk about you taking liberties later.”  
“Of course, Molly.” He kissed her on the nose and she couldn’t help but giggle.  
“You—you’re sure you’re alright?”  
“Yes.”  
“But—umm— do you just happen to like pain or—did you mean what you said, do you—“  
“Lets— let’s just go to sleep, Molly. We can discuss that later.” His normal tone was back and, despite the love she felt in his arms, he was otherwise Sherlock again.  
Guarded, secretive, quiet, and often times rude, Sherlock.  
At least, for a little while, he had been her Sherlock.  
Molly wondered, as she drifted off, if Sherlock would ever fully be hers, or if she was only to have had tonight and in her dreams.  
* * *  
As Sherlock approached his front door in the afternoon light, he could only sigh as he saw the knocker had been straightened.  
Grumbling, he unconsciously readjusted it and made his way inside.  
“Afternoon, Mycroft.” Sherlock mused, setting his box of pastries on the kitchen table before hanging his coat on the hook before joining his brother in the sitting room  
“Afternoon, Sherlock.” The elder Holmes fiddled with his umbrella a moment before speaking. “Don’t worry.” He smiled smugly,gesturing to the extra jacket. “I haven’t woken her.”  
“What do you want, Mycroft?” He refused to take the bait.  
“Well, I did have a case, but — uh— how long has it been for you, Sherlock? Couple of years, I believe, correct? And Miss Hooper doesn’t strike me as a Victor Trevor.”  
“Its Dr. Hooper and my sexual decisions are none of your business.”  
“Of course not… I’m only saying… new experience…”  
“Stop it, Mycroft. Either tell me about the job or leave, I’ve got plans.”  
“Ah, yes, plans… young love.” Sherlock gave him a warning stare.  
“Sherlock?” A small, feminine voice interrupted.  
“Yes, Molly?” He rose from his chair and met her as she entered the kitchen.  
“Oh, I was wondering where you went. I saw you cleaned up and thought you’d left on—on a case or something.” She fumbled a bit with the words, maybe she, too, was feeling out the new dynamic.  
“No, I just—uh— took a bit of a walk… to clear my head and I brought some pastries.” He offered up the box.  
“Oh, thank you. Thats a very nice.” Molly worried at her bottom lip a bit and he realized she knew his brother was there. Looking away, he pursed his own lips in accordance with her.  
“Mycroft is on his way out, Molly, no need to worry about him.” He said, softly.  
“Yes, Molly,” The man in question rose and walked into the kitchen, holding a folder. “I suppose I shouldn’t distract you two any longer than necessary. Everything you need to know is in there. Text if you—“ With a great sigh, he turned back to Molly from his brother and set the materials on the kitchen table in front of her. “Text if there are any questions.” And with that, he was off.  
“Wh-whats the case?” she asked, taking a bite of an eclair and pulling herself up onto one of the stools.  
“Didn’t ask.” Sherlock put the kettle on. “You take milk in your coffee, right?”  
“Yes.” She replied, absentmindedly flipping through the pages in the folder. “You should read this.”  
“Why?” He scoffed, setting the milk on the table.  
“Because I said so.” Her voice was stern as she met his eyes and he could feel every muscle in his body ceased its movements.  
“Ok, Molly.” His voice was soft and accompanied by a smile, but he couldn’t hide that he was self conscious about submitting to her will. “I will — do — that.” He added, carefully, drawing out each syllable and ending in a lip smack. Fully in control again,he walked past her to the kitchen counter.  
As he poured their coffee, he began wondering, and worrying, if what happened last night was something Molly wanted all the time. She was reasonable, of course, but he’d seen her with Tom. If he wanted to pursue a relationship with her, would he be expected to be submissive all the time as well as in bed?  
Did he want that?  
Could he deal with that?  
No, no… He knew he would find it humiliating and really only enjoyed that privately.  
Oh, god, he thought, as he pulled the file over to himself, We may have to talk about this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is... well, interesting... proceed with caution. My Sherlock kind of ran away with me and I considering editing something out, but I've decided to let him be himself. Just a forewarning. :-)

Sherlock had consciously avoided Molly for nearly a week. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to see her, quite the opposite;  he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. Love was never his area… he wasn’t even sure if he was in love or what that meant. He was very good at keeping secrets from everyone; sometimes even his brother, but in this case… Mycroft had already caught them in the act. There was no secret.  
            Like a typical older brother, too, he was keen to wait until the perfect moment to bring it up. A week was more time than Sherlock should need to solve his case, so a drop in was to be expected. He had been so close to deciding how to approach Molly again, and Mycroft was poised to take the wind out of his sails.  
            “I take it you’ve solved the case.” The familiar voice called from the sitting room. It wasn’t even necessary for Mycroft to announce himself. Annoyed, Sherlock entered through the kitchen to set his shopping down on the table and began putting it away.  
            “Yes, Mycroft, of course I solved your case,” he muttered, listening to his brothers footsteps come closer.  
            “That wasn’t the ‘case’ I was talking about...Though, I would like to know the outcome of that one as well, of course.” Sherlock felt his ears turn a little red, but continued with his task, ignoring his brothers grin. “You know, she might not want to stay friends… or I could be wrong and she will… but do you?”  
        “That’s none of your business.” Running out of bags, he chose to rearrange the cans in his cupboard, in hopes that Mycroft would leave.  
            “I’m only expressing concern.”  
            “I don’t need your concern,” he spat, surprising himself at how angry his tone was.               
“I’m simply saying you have a necessary working relationship with Miss-“  
            “Doctor.”  
            “Doctor Hooper and I fear your work will suffer if you don’t mend it.” With a sigh, Mycroft casually began examining his umbrella handle. “We both know what happens when you’re in a bind… and uh… how you handle heart break.”  
        “This isn’t like that, Mycroft.”  
        “Like what?’  
        “Like Victor.” He finally turned to face his brother and found himself immediately turning to look down at his shoes. “Even if it were, it’s none of your business.”  
        “You’ve said that, but I think it is. Sherlock, every time you fall apart I’m left to pick up the pieces…”  
        “Then do us both a favor and leave them this time.”  
        “Fine.” Mycroft turned to go. “Oh, and Sherlock, please do send me back those files.” Sherlock let him leave.  
        Perhaps, he had been wrong… maybe this needed more thought. Making his way into the sitting room, he laid himself across the couch and placed his hands below his chin, in a prayer position.  
        Slowly, he began walking down the halls of his mind palace, not sure if he even wanted to open Molly’s door but he knew he had to. It was time to face this head on.  
        “I’ve been feeling neglected, Sherlock.” Her voice was soft, but echoed a bit in the morgue. “You’ve been trying to ignore me.”  
        “No, I haven’t. I’ve been thinking about you since… that night.”  
        “I know, but not like this… you’ve been avoiding communication. It’s all been shallow thoughts, you know, like you use to solve mundane problems like where you’re going to get take away from and sexual fantasies.” Mind palace Molly smiled at him. “I can make this a bit more comfortable if you’d like… maybe you should lay down.” She didn’t even have to touch him, as soon as she finished speaking, he was laying across the table naked. “You know, you’ve neglected yourself so long, I think this” she ran her nail gently up the underside of his erection, “has become a medical condition. Even if it’s just a psychological one, this can get very serious.”  
“Molly, I ummm…” She waited for him to respond, but he wouldn’t, she hushed him, tousling his curls a bit.  
“Now, Sherlock, the other day was the first time in years…” She paused. “And the first for a few other things as well. Its natural and ok that you’re scared.” He could hear her shoes clicking on the floor as she walked around and fastened cuffs to his leg and arms, binding him to the table. “You really like to be tied down, don’t do?” When he didn’t respond, he felt her fingers lace in his hair and he yelped as she pulled. “I asked you a question.”  
“Yes, yes, I do.” Sherlock managed to force out through gritted teeth and hissed breath. She was pulling pretty hard and had a firm grip. Appeased by his answer, she let him go.  
“Talking to me isn’t complicated.” She continued to circle him. It felt very predatory, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it. His Molly, honing in on him like a lioness in her lab coat, silly printed shirt and no make up. She didn’t need to dress up, she just needed to be her. He moaned when he felt her nails dig into his chest again, like claws of a wild cat, and scrap down his torso. Reflexively, his muscles tensed and he’d fought to close up on himself. As he laid his head back down, he felt himself becoming part of the whiteness of the room. It was nothing but them and the table. He could feel the chill of its metal and the air on his naked body, cooling him and making him keenly aware of just how exposed he was.  
“Now, where do we start?” Casually, she glided over to the cupboards that had appeared. “Here’s the funny thing, Sherlock.” Molly began, brandishing a rectal thermometer. It was glass and noticeable thicker and longer than a typical one. “You know exactly what you want.” In preparation for this part of the fantasy, his mind had even retied his legs in a bent position, toes facing the ceiling. “You know, all you have to do is ask me for it.” She whispered, close to his ear as she slid the thermometer in slowly, even stopping to tease a bit by pulling it in and out. “I think you need someone to take care of you, Sherlock.” He could feel her hand slide down to rub his testicles. “You don’t know your own limits and you need someone to show you them.” Her ministrations were making him fidget. His head drooped backwards and his eyes closed. He needed more. This wasn’t enough. It wasn’t. “No.” She said, sternly, slapping him with her free hand. “Look at me.” Of course, he obeyed. “Don’t you dare try to come yet, do you hear me?”  
“Yes, Molly.” He strained, attempting to adjust himself, desperate for her hand against his prick. Of course, she didn’t miss a beat, this time choosing to smack his ass. The crack itself would have sent chills down his spine, but the sensation made him cry out. “Now, you came here to talk to me, didn’t you?” She smiled, as he responded in the affirmative. “How did we get here, then, huh?” She removed her hand and he whined a bit as the loss. “Look at me, Sherlock, and talk to me.” The noise he found himself making as she removed the thermometer surprised even him. “If you don’t want to talk, I will.” His legs were flat again and he could feel her weight and soft skin as she climbed on top of him. Still in her ridiculous shirt and lab coat, but trousers and panties were gone. “You’re scared.”  
“Of what?” He scoffed. For a moment, he expected a slap or some other sort of punishment, but she merely raised an eyebrow.  
“Of this.” Molly’s voice was cool as she slipped him deep inside of her and he held his breath when she began to shift her hips and rhythmically slide up and down his shaft. “See. You love to be called out on your shit. Its a thing for you. You let everyone close to you do it. John, Mary, me… even Mycroft. You want to be made to apologize, you want to be a little humiliated and you definitely want to be punished. But, you don’t want to do this” She began working his cock faster, in his mind her pussy felt like a vice, urging him to come. “with just anyone. You loved Victor and you love me. But, Victor left. Didn’t he?” Crying out again as she got up, he wasn’t quite sure what he began babbling about. She was wearing a strap on now and he found he was free enough to roll onto his stomach. When he felt her fingers around his hips, he buckled a bit, trying to get away, but opted not to. Instead, he clung to the table and allowed her to enter him.  
“Oh. God. Please.” He gasped for air between moans and pleads.  
“What did Victor do, Sherlock, hmm?” She asked. “Did he do this?” Another sting to his ass.  
“Fuck! Yes, Molly.”  
“He knew you liked this, too, didn’t he?” Using his hair, she pulled his head back far enough for them to make some eye contact and made a few, slow and hard thrusts into him.  
“Yes. Oh. God. Please, please can I—“  
“And then what did he do?” Suddenly, everything was gone and he was standing alone in a white room naked. “He left you.” Her voice came from behind him. “He left you all alone. He knew he was your only friend and he abandoned you. He gave you drugs, he made sure you ate, gave you a place to live, but when he was done with you…” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “He left and took all your secrets with him. That must be horrifying. You gave him everything, quite happily, and allowed him to do things to you… experiment on you in such an intimate way… and then he walked away as if it where nothing.”  
“He already had someone else.”  
“And you knew.”  
“Of course I knew!” he shouted, finding himself fully clothed again. “The entire university did, but I knew first. I didn’t even mind sharing him it was just—,he…”  
“He didn’t want to talk. That wasn’t an option for him. He was just done with you and that was that.”  
“Yes.”  
“Everyone that loses at love feels that way. It’s scary, it’s sad, it hurts. It’s called getting your heart broken and the vast majority of people have gone through that.”  
“Including you.” He swallowed.  
“Yes, you broke my heart… and everyone knew.” Molly crossed her arms and sighed. “But, I was still there for you, wasn’t I?”  
“Yes.”  
“In a very big way, I might add.”  
“Yes.” Sherlocks voice cracked as he stood in front of her and took her hands.  
“Haven’t I proven myself worthy enough, yet, Sherlock?” A single tear dripped from her eye.Silently, he wiped it away with his thumb and pulled her close. “I just want to love you.”  
“I know.”  
“You can’t let one broken heart destroy you like this. People get hurt every day.” She protested in his shoulder.  
“I know.” All of a sudden, she was angry again and he was back on the table. The vertigo was enough to make him genuinely dizzy.  
“I am good enough, you know.” She looked down at him, sternly. “I’ve earned this. I know I have.” As she rode him, he fond himself feeling overwhelmed. All of a sudden, the scene that wasn’t enough was too much. He felt a bit like he was sinking into quick sand.  
“Red!” He cried, breathlessly, and she slapped him.  
With a gasp, he sat straight up. Back in 221B. All alone.

 

                   


	6. Chapter 6

Molly had been missing Sherlock and longed to hear from him again. She spent a lot of time wondering if she had done something wrong, but he had assured her everything was fine.  
“I’ve never been better, Molly.”  
She had just settled in for the night and was reading a novel in the glow of the lone lamp on in her apartment. Snuggled up on the couch in her living room with Toby, she was attempting to distract herself from the whole situation when she heard a knock at her door.  
Finally, she thought upon seeing his face through the peep hole, and slowly opened the door.  
“Sherlock.” She exhaled.  
“Molly.” The smile was a bit forced, he appeared a bit… worried as she stepped back and let him into the dimly lit flat.  
“Tea?” Sherlock shook his head. “Do… do you need something?” Without warning, Sherlock turned on his heels and she was pinned between him and the door, his lips pressed to hers.  
“Have you… told anyone?” He asked, pulling away and searching her face.  
“No… why… why would I?”  
“I don’t know.” He replied after a long pause and stepped back.  
“Do you need something?” Casually, he sat himself on the couch, without even pausing to remove his jacket.  
“Molly, I’m afraid I may have made a mistake.”  
“A mistake?”  
“Yes, with you.”  
“Oh.” She released the word along with all the air in her lungs.  
“I’m not sure what came over me.”  
“It’s fine—“ Deflated, she turned to the door, ready to usher him out.  
“However,” Sherlock’s pause was long and palpable; long enough for it to register with her and the weight of it to force her to return to face him. “Since it would appear that we have such good sexual chemistry, I was hoping you would be interested in continuing with our— physical relationship.”  
“You’re asking if I still want to have sex with you?”  
“Yes, whenever it’s mutually desired; if that's agreeable to you, of course.” Molly couldn’t help but feel confused. Its not as if Sherlock’s requests were usually straightforward, but this was new territory.  
“You’re interested in a relationship with me?”  
“A sexual relationship, yes. Romance is considerably more distracting than sex and I’m afraid my main focus still needs to be my work.”  
“So, you just want to have sex with me?” It’s not as though Molly had never had a ‘friends with benefits’ relationship before, but she was considerably more mature now and besides, nothing was ever simple with Sherlock.  
“Well, on top of our working together as we always have been, yes.” Again, he was studying her face. “You’re upset?”  
“A little.”   
“But, why—oh, Molly, this is a huge concession for me, you must understand--”   
“I’m a concession?” she interrupted.   
“No, no, not like that.” He squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips. “I’m saying sex is a distraction I’ve only rarely indulged in because my work takes precedence.”  
“So, why now? What’s different?” Swallowing hard, still in his Belstaff, he rose from the sofa and approached her, where she was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.  
“You.” His voice broke a bit and he shrugged his shoulders as he forced a small smile.  
With the arm she wasn’t supporting herself with, she reached behind her and opened the door.  
“I need to think.” She said and he nodded.  
“Of course.” It was hard to ignore his lingering scent. Something about this situation frustrated her and she longed to hear him beg for her again, but she let him leave and pushed the door closed behind him.  
That night, she laid awake in bed. Debating. She wasn’t certain she could emotionally handle not having a romantic relationship with Sherlock if they were to become sexually involved. He was too intense. This could be an all or nothing situation.  
On the other hand, she enjoyed the power Sherlock had given her over him that night. She had barely touched his cock and simply commanded him to come and he did… whilst he was eating her out. Thinking about that still made her wet. It was hard to resist; and tonight she chose not to. Kicking Toby out of her room, she pulled her vibrator from its velvety pouch in her dresser and shimmied out of her panties.  
Determined, Molly gripped her headboard as she straddled her pillow before planting her face against the cold iron bars. With her fingers, she tried to replicate how he teased her that night; tracing up and down the lips, first, before slipping beneath and strumming at her clit.  
For awhile, she simply rubbed the mound, sometimes gently, sometimes aggressively, never quite peeking. With all her might, she tried to imagine another face or none at all. She tried to think of no one and nothing, but the second she slipped her fingers into her deep moist crevice, tempting herself, she was gone.  
Her face was going to marked by the bars of her headboard, she knew, as she threw one hand behind her with the toy. Unconsciously, she heard herself moan his name as she slid it inside her achingly wet pussy. Free hand rubbing her clit from the front, she tried biting at the bedpost like she did last time.  
Oh, his tongue, that god damn golden tongue.  
She knew she needed it again. In fact, she needed more. She could hear him pleading with her in his head. He couldn’t come and had a desperate need to.  
“Please, Molly, may I come? Please?”  
The poor man was almost in tears.  
As she hit her apex, her body stiffened, save her arms, and she pulled away from the headboard bars, throwing her head back, shouting his name at the ceiling in the darkness of the flat.  
“Shit.” She swore. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” After all they’d been through, she wasn’t even sure herself if she wanted to attempt this, but she wasn’t certain she could handle saying ‘no’ either.  
* * *  
For most of her shift, she’d managed to push the situation from her head; managed to ignore the knot in her stomach; its show of concern for her heart, and press on. There was no need to drag on the debate for days in her head, it would just wear on her so much more than just making a decision.  
Recklessly, she chose to follow her carnal urges and her heart on what could be an emotional voyage out to sea… but she was only human. Having this man, this particular man, with his smart mouth, his arrogance, on his knees, serving her and begging her… no, begging for her…Well, her panties were moistened with just the thought of it.   
When he came into the morgue that day, it was as if nothing had changed. Their tones were as friendly as they had always been, and it was a nice reprieve. His scent in her nostrils, though… he’d been running recently, she could tell. He had worked up a bit of a sweat, even in the cold of the season, beneath his Belstaff… maybe on purpose… she wouldn’t put that kind of trick past Sherlock.  
Of the lovers she’d had, she’d never had one so ready to be dominated and, if she were honest, she had never felt like any of them had really given her as much reign as this particular man offered. It did fit his patterns of behavior, though; his personalities were always extreme. If it hadn’t been for Sherlock, she might not have even known the depths of her fantasies to dominate. It was purely intoxicating.  
It’d probably only been about 15 minutes since he had waltzed in and filled her mind with the desire to tie him up and have her way with him, but she simply could not push the thoughts from her mind.. Nothing but paperwork to finish, she stormed down the hall and into the lab. Noticing John, she immediately met his eyes.  
“Step out, please.” The doctor looked a bit befuddled at this harsh request, instead of her usual friendly greeting. “Did I stutter? Leave!” She commanded, louder this time, and he moved quietly out, shutting the door behind him.  
Once they were alone, she walked over to Sherlock, who was staring intently into his favourite microscope. Positioning herself behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and inhaled him.  
“It would appear you have made your decision.” The confident asshole hadn’t even taken his eye off the microscope. Annoyed, she wrapped her hand around the erection he was attempting to hide. She reveled in his gasp and the audible gulp that followed.  
“It would appear you’re happy with my decision.” She smiled against the nape of his neck but he he cleared his throat and brushed her off. Turning to face her, he proceeded in his most business like tone, frequently avoiding eye contact.  
“Well, then, would it please you if I dropped by after work so we can discuss the parameters of our …. arrangement?” Mollys’ smile grew as she placed her hand on his thigh and moved in.  
“If it would please me?” She teased a bit, her nose on his cheek.  
“Yes.” Again, he was looking away. Her face was pressed against his, but he was all but ignoring her. She hoped it was just work, she didn’t want their “arrangement” to change their friendship, or interrupt their working life.… she also wanted him to feel comfortable about this part of himself as well. This, she decided, she would make part of her job as his sexual liaison.  
“That would please me, but would you like the chance to please me right now?” She’d moved her face back so they weren’t touching and looked him in the eye.  
“Possibly… How would I do that?” Again, he was searching her face and looking her up and down; trying to read her.  
“I only want a kiss, Sherlock.”  
“Just a kiss?”  
“Yes, but a real kiss.” Molly leaned back in and placed her lips next to his ear. “I want to taste all of you, Sherlock.” A thrilling chill ran up her spine when she felt his hands grasp her hips and she responded by placing her lips by his.  
It intrigued her how shaky the start of this kiss was . After all, they’d kissed before, why was this any different? Maybe she’d never understand, or rather, he’d never let her. But, she hoped he would.


End file.
